Jealousy
by Erik'sTrueAngel
Summary: PFN’s 3rd Morbidity Contest. Little Meg has always been envious when it comes to her good friend Christine. But marrying the Vicomte was the last straw… [OneShot] Dark AU. Meg’s POV.


Rated: PG-13 (T)

Genre: Horror/Angst

Summary: PFN's 3rd Morbidity Contest. Little Meg has always been envious when it comes to her good friend Christine. But marrying the Vicomte was the last straw… (One-Shot) Dark AU. Meg's POV.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Phantom of the Opera.

A/N: This story got in 19th place in the contest. Also, this is a dark half of Meg's personality. Enjoy!

Jealousy 

By: Erik'sTrueAngel

Christine. Poor Christine.

Not a day passes by when someone has to mention "poor Christine".

Such a terrible thing to happen to a good girl! Imagine the terror of being kidnapped by some madman! To only to be put in her place, the poor dear.

_Indeed_, I think. And of course sweet, modest Christine blushes about it and tries to avoid the topic.

Phooey. I know she revels in it, the attention of every sympathetic twit to fall in her manipulative clutches. And they all say she must be lucky to have such understanding people in her life to help her through the hardships. Wouldn't they be surprised to know how her best friend loathes every inch of that petty creature.

Why must one ask am I so bitter to a girl who was a sister to me?

It wasn't always like that sadly…

When Maman brought Christine Daae to live with us, I was ecstatic. I was an only child and I didn't have many friends in the _corps de ballet_. I was lonely but Christine filled that void. We were destined to be friends.

We both had a parent whom we never met (my father and her mother) and we were quiet, shy, and constantly teased by the older girls. From a young age we were highly naïve, lost in our overactive imaginations. But those were the simple times when anyone said "poor Christine" I would agree and listen to their sympathies. It didn't bother me in the least, at first.

My change of attitude towards my dear friend happened when she told me about the Angel of Music teaching her.

I said before we had overactive imaginations, stuck in the clouds with fairy tales and nonsense. But I talked about the Phantom, the Opera Ghost that lurked in the opera house. Even before Christine, the stories surrounding him terrified me but at the same time excited me. Imagine a child of six learning that her home was haunted by a specter! I thrived on Buquet stories, allowing myself to be frightened out of my mind.

And I took great pleasure in telling my own stories about the Phantom to the younger girls when I became a bit older. I tried to get Christine to join in the fun and also the dancers annual "Phantom Hunt" on all Hollow's Eve. The girl refused to, berating me that he doesn't exist.

She never believed in the Opera Ghost and would scold me on my terrifying the younger ballet rats. Yet if I were to tell her that since her father never sent her the Angel of Music then he doesn't exist either, she would burst into tears and I would get a beating from Maman's cane.

To be nice, I would listen to the story of Little Lotte because she was my friend and I would put up with her ever-constant wishes and hopes he would come to her. That's what sisters and friends do. We put up with the other's childish notions.

She would never listen to my stories though. She never would put up with my silly thoughts. It all had to be on her. Not me.

My Phantom couldn't exist but her Angel could!

And once her lessons began, she would tell me how wrong I was. Her father finally sent the Angel he promised and she expected me to be happy for her. For support, I did. But inside it gnawed at me with bitter anger and jealousy. It wasn't fair. Why should I believe in her Angel when she didn't believe in the Ghost? She could at least for my sake humor me like I did for her. But no.

That's when I did start to look at her in a new light.

As the years passed, I noticed how she still clung to her childish innocence by denouncing the harsh truths of life. When Gisele told us about intercourse between a man and woman, Christine would grow ill and walk away. Later she would tell me how much of a sin it must be and how she would never do such indecent acts.

"I will always be a good girl," Christine would say. "Always."

And if that wasn't petty, then our monthly occurrence was. When Christine started, she fainted dead away at the sight of her own blood and locked herself up in her room believing she was going to die a horrible death. I tried to tell her it was all right and that it was normal for her to bleed like that. I had gotten mine a few months prior so I felt like an expert to share my knowledge. But she wouldn't listen to what I had to say and called me a whore. Christine believed that this was a sign of our sin of lust and that I must have allowed a man to touch me for it to happen.

She cried for days. She thought she somehow betrayed her dead father and her beloved Angel. It wasn't until Maman talked to her that she accepted her ordeal. She apologized to me and I shook it off. I should have known a _child _wouldn't understand when she was entering the stages of womanhood.

There were times when Christine would say something mature and practical, though not often. I believed she wanted to keep her puerile façade for attention. And attention she got.

I wouldn't have cared if it had been some other person, but it was Maman.

My mother, the woman who carried me and gave birth to me, began to spend more time with Christine than me. She would give her special treatment by letting her tardiness for practice go unpunished. If I did that I was reprimanded on the spot. And if Christine needed advice she got it, but if I needed some then I was told to ask one of the older girls. Maman wouldn't pay me any attention. It wasn't fair. She was my mother! Not Christine's! Mine! We were kin while Christine was adopted. Yet she treated the silly goose like she was her own daughter! What of me? Didn't I deserve some motherly love?

When I told my mother how I felt, she would scold me and tell me I was being foolish and selfish. That's right. Foolish selfish Meg Giry. Of course, Christine never knew what a mother's love was like. Hers died! But I do. And if that didn't hurt enough, then their secrets did.

I knew there was something between my mother and Christine once the Angel of Music started training her. I wanted to believe that my mother and I never kept secrets from each other. I didn't. But she did and the only one who knew was Christine.

It made me resent the Swedish girl even more. I was the daughter here, not her! I should know Maman's secrets. It wasn't until later that I knew what it was, but still they could have trusted me. I would never have told a soul.

That went on during the "Opera Incident". It was also at that time my name was forgotten to those around. I was referred to as "Christine's friend" or "the dancer close to the Daae girl". I never was little Meg Giry anymore. I became "the friend".

It started during the rehearsals for _Hannibal_. The new managers announced our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny.

For a long time, I never had any suitors nor did she. I was glad that Christine never had any attention from men. At least it didn't make me feel bad. It wasn't that we weren't attractive, oh no. We both were pretty looking but we weren't the mistress type for our wealthy patrons. Alas, when I saw the Vicomte it had been love at first sight.

"He's so handsome!" I excitingly told her, but my hopes were dashed in a single second with her,

"We were once childhood sweethearts."

If she remembered him then he would surely remember her! Again Fate was unkind to me. But he had walked past her, completely oblivious to her presence. While the simpleton sulked, I was rejoicing inside! This could be my chance to find a husband! A rich one too!

But as I thought about it, I wasn't sure how to win him over. I knew the other girls would sell themselves to the older men, but I wasn't going to do that. I had my own virtues I intended to keep until my wedding night. There had to be another way to gain his affections. I knew he would attend the gala afterwards and I figured I would try to dazzle him there.

But, Christine ended up taking over for La Carlotta as Elise. It had been the aria, "Think of Me", that won over the handsome Vicomte. His memories of their childhood spent together arisen and I lost him to that brat.

Then something wonderful happened. Christine went missing after her triumphed performance. The Vicomte was distraught. He had hoped to take her out for dinner, but she was nowhere to be found. Being a "good" friend, I ensured him Christine probably went off to be on her own and she would return shortly. I wasn't worried and neither should he.

Trying to keep him there longer, I asked him how he liked the ballet numbers. But he didn't hear me. He left me in his sullen mood over Christine.

I told myself not to let it get to me. He was her old friend, of course, so his concern was understandable but later he would realize that her blonde friend would be a suitable match than a dreamer. I was thoroughly convinced that her naïve actions would chase him away. Why would a man marry a child? I went to sleep that night with pleasant dreams of what my marriage might be with the Vicomte.

The next morning the managers were in an uproar. They were upset about Christine's disappearance and the notes they received by the Opera Ghost. But my heart broke when I heard the Vicomte's lovesick plea for Christine Daae. He looked at me once during the meeting, but said nothing to me.

But it didn't end there for me.

Christine told me her Angel, all along, had been the Phantom. The ghost she believed didn't exist was her loved Angel of Music. The truth she found made me pleased now that she knew she was wrong. But what had hurt was apparently he was obsessed with her. Her! Of all people it had to be her! Why a child?

I was a little hurt by that, but I found it rather amusing as I thought about it. She had won over the feared Phantom, without knowing. The being she believed was nonexistent was in love with her. The irony!

Though, I was shocked to learn she was terrified of him. Before she would tell me she loved her Angel and I read in her diary that she wished he were human. So why the change? He was a flesh and blood being. She now had the man she wanted so! I thought for sure she would run off with him, but she wanted Raoul. She ran into his protective arms and before I knew it they were engaged.

Maman had told me to be happy for her. How could I? I was in love with Raoul de Chagny, which didn't say much for Christine.

She continued to go to and fro from Raoul to the Phantom. She claimed the Phantom scared her, yet she couldn't resist going to him. During the fateful _Don Juan Triumphant _Christine practically made love to the Phantom. And in front of her fiancé's eyes too! I thought she "loved" him, as she would always say. No one who loved another would ever allow themselves to be seduced by a stranger. And she had the gull to call me a whore before!

And once more she was kidnapped. If I were Raoul I would let her rot wherever she goes, but being the gallant and noble hero that he was he went after her. I was baffled by it.

He and the city of Paris just witnessed the leading lady being ravished by the wanted murderer! It clearly shows she doesn't care so much for him as she claimed she did. But the dear love crazed man couldn't see the horrible truth. Christine probably would sell him out in a heartbeat.

But not I. I cared too much for him, even though he hardly spoke two words to me. I still wanted him despite how he passes me by. I loved him with my whole heart, unlike Christine.

One should know where their heart lies. But not in Christine's case. I could have sworn she wanted someone to make the decision for her. With that confused visage I bet she wanted someone to take her hand and lead her to the right man. Instead of behaving like an adult, Christine remained the precious child to the end leaving with her Prince Charming.

I wanted her to go to the Phantom. Yes his face was horrid but Christine could see past it. She had too much of a good and pure soul that his setback could be overlooked.

Did that happen? No…

Now, I'm here in Raoul's estate as a guest for the wedding tomorrow morning. Maman's sleeping next to me peacefully while I lay awake seething with anger, spite, and jealousy.

No one cares to know who I am. No man ever looks in my direction. It's all Christine. Beautiful angelic Christine Daae. It made me ill.

I want to be happily married as well, but from the looks of it I might as well be a spinster. I don't see any love in my future. I see myself as the de Chagny children's nurse as husband and wife spend their time in each other's arms.

Hot tears coursed down my cheeks. Is that what my life has reduced to? To a life of emptiness and longing? I could never get over Raoul de Chagny for as long as I live. He's the only man for me. There will never be another. I will age in the distance without the man of my dreams. How pitiful I will be.

Unless…

This idea has always in the back of my head. I never thought once about actually doing it until tonight.

My tears stop and my despondence become replaced with devious glee.

Yes…

I know now what I must do to ensure my happiness and dreams with Raoul.

Carefully, I sneak out from the covers, making sure not to disturb Maman. Quietly, I tiptoe to the door but before I left, I checked to see my mother sleeping and nod to myself. Here was my point of no return and I'm not hesitating.

My room was situated in the far wing of the mansion, far from the betrothed couple. The servants were all in bed so I had the house to myself.

Good. I wouldn't have to do any explaining if I were to be caught.

I slowly crept down the halls with a single candle as my guide, heading in the direction of my tormentor.

It was all too easy, I realized with a newfound giddiness. Perhaps God was on my side this once. He must know what I'm doing was justified. Maybe this was meant to be. Maybe this was my chance to prove myself worthy in the Vicomte's eyes.

Yes!

I knew it!

We **were **meant to be and Christine was our obstacle.

Closer now.

Almost there!

Soon Christine. Soon you will know my pain.

This was my time to shine in front of the adoring audience. Everyone will love me now.

I stand at her door and silently stepped inside.

I extinguished my light so it won't wake her. I closed the door and made sure it was locked securely. There's no need for interruptions. Not if I can help it.

I turned towards my foe as I walked over to her bed, taking in that so many had deemed an "angel".

Tranquil she looks. Her chocolate curls spread from under her porcelain face, the blood-red lips slightly parted in a dreamless slumber, her flesh so smooth and fair.

No flaws marked her pallor countenance. She was the epitome of beauty.

The Phantom was the epitome of ugliness.

Two opposites.

I find what would suffice by her sewing scissors.

I grasped the scissors and stalked towards the unsuspected child.

Oh yes, two opposites.

Now they will be no longer different.

And Raoul will be mine.

The End


End file.
